The Search in Southshore
by Skyskinner
Summary: Patricia Highwater, a resident of Southshore, thought she'd be spending the day with her son. Instead, he's disappeared without a sign of where he's gone and it's up to her to find him.


"John!" Patricia Highwater called out for her son. Standing under the awning of their small home in the Lordaeronian fishing town of Southshore, she wiped her hands with the rag she'd brought outside from the kitchen. "John!" she called again, pacing frantically across their modest front lawn. It was getting late, the sun already disappearing behind the ridge that separated their home from grizzly Silverpine Forest. "John, this isn't funny!" she implored. She'd in fact been looking for her son since morning. Her husband, Iarl and her older son Dainslef had left the day before with a trading caravan to the farming community of Hillsbrad Fields in the northwest. Though she worried for their safety on the road, she had allayed some of those fears with the hope of spending the day with her youngest, a rare opportunity for quality time with just the two of them. Instead, John had managed to compound those fears by disappearing almost immediately. "I'll be back before supper!" he had promised, rushing out the door with an old rucksack over his shoulder and a bass'n'berry pastry stuffed into his mouth. She had barely had time to reach the door to call out after him before she saw her son disappear into the town hall. Though she was curious as to what business her youngest son could possibly have there, she had no reason to believe he would be gone more than one hour, and certainly not twelve.

Clutching at the four-gemmed crossroads pendant that hung around her neck, Patty took a breath and began marching towards the town hall herself. She had expended her patience, and she most certainly would have answers. Someone here would know what had happened to John. She didn't have far to walk. Southshore, though an important and bustling seaport of the Alliance, was not so sprawling or populated that it demanded much in the way of square mileage. There was a single road running through the town, a road that would continue to run clear into the Alterac Mountains to the north and beyond. On the road's east side, small single story residences pushed up against the southern shoreline and back towards the river that flowed from the distant Darrowmere Lake. The Southshore Inn also made its home here in the east side, facing almost directly opposite the town hall on the west side of the road, which housed all mercantile and government buildings. The Highwater residence sat a few houses north from the inn, but had a clear view of both it and the town hall.

As she stepped into the always open front doors of the government building, Patty was immediately assailed by the sounds of argument coming from the back room which served the actual function of 'hall' for the town hall. Jasper Tarly, the old clerk who had served as Southshore's book keeper for as long as Patty had lived there, waved her over to his desk. Though her eyes lingered on the door leading into the main hall, she complied with Tarly's request. When she neared his desk, he leaned forward in his oaken seat and raised one of his withered hands up to hide his speech.

"I wouldn't be going in there right now Mrs. Highwater," Tarly warned. "Marshal Redpath and that odd goat creature, you know the blue ones? Huraan I think was his name? Anyway, he and the Marshal have been having a real row of it."

"I don't care what they're arguing about Jasper. I'm looking for my son." Patricia Highwater rarely had anything but a smile for anyone, but today she was in no mood for the petty politics that plagued even a small town like Southshore. Tarly shrunk back into his seat when he saw the unusually harsh glare she was shooting his way.

"Dains? Didn't he and Iarl leave with that caravan?"

"Yes. I'm looking for John. I know I saw him come in here this morning Jasper Tarly." Her temper was rising now. Jasper would have been here all day, sitting in this very seat. There's no way he could have missed her son. Beyond that, she knew that he and her youngest had an odd rapport. Both shared a distasteful appreciation for the various 'adventurous' women who sometimes made their way through Southshore. Specifically, they appreciated the copious tracts of real estate these 'adventurous' women saw no need to cover. It was though the south had no sense of modesty whatsoever.

"Oh, John! A fine lad! Sharp eyes!" Jasper grinned stupidly, looking up at Patty with his best attempt at innocence. He'd have fit in perfectly with the cutthroats and vagabonds that filled the Stormwind Stockade. When it became clear that her scowl was not going to be satisfied with so meager a response, he continued on with a feigned gasp accompanied by a wrinkled hand to his chest. "He's alright isn't he?"

"Jasper, I still remember a thing or two. I could roast you like a swine if I had a mind to." She couldn't, of course. Though it was true that Patricia Highwater had studied for a time as an apprentice in Dalaran, she was hardly a model student. Pyromancy in particular had been a difficult subject for her typically gentle personality, but Jasper needn't know that. As a result, the hanging threat left his already wrinkled and hairless face so pale that he might have been a corpse. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and began wringing his hands as nervously as Patty had been pacing across her lawn only minutes before.

"Alright now Mrs. Highwater! No need to be doing anything unnatural!" Jasper squeaked, shrinking back lower into his cushioned seat. "John did come in this morning, but you'll need to speak with the Marshal about why. I truly don't know what his reasons were! He just asked me to keep it a secret!"

Patty's ire dissipated almost immediately. John had wanted to keep his coming here a secret? Did he want the day to himself? Iarl had been working the boys unusually hard this past summer. Between days of fishing along the coast intermixed with the necessary tending of their modest field of crops, there'd been little to no time for either Dainslef or John to enjoy themselves. Had she been selfish to want to take today away from John as well? She surely felt so. Patty loved her boys dearly, and while it was true that she looked for any opportunity to spend time with either one, she'd never want to do so at the expense of their happiness. Still, she couldn't help but feel a stab of pain at the notion that John apparently felt it necessary to go to such lengths just to avoid her. Logically, she knew that it was natural for boys (if she was being honest with herself, men) John and Dainslef's age should want to live their own lives. Though Dainslef, approaching thirty years himself, had always seemed to embrace their life in Southshore, John had always wanted more. He'd wanted it ever since he was a child hearing stories of the great heroes of the Second War.

Even so, Patty was still worried. Whatever his reasons were, John had been missing for the better part of a full day now without any kind of warning. Sure, her youngest son could be irresponsible, but this was strange even for him. He'd usually have the courtesy of at least telling her first before he'd do something foolish. This wasn't the same as his usual antics. Jasper was still quivering in his seat, clearly afraid that she might very well roast him after all. With a sigh, she reached out to pat the poor letch's wrinkled hand and offered him a relieving smile.

"Thank you Jasper. You've been very helpful."

Jasper nodded over and over before finally sitting up and straightening himself out in his seat. "I-I'm sure John's just find Mrs. Highwater! That boy's always getting into mischief, but he always finds himself a way out!" Patty inclined her head in appreciation before turning to head towards the door to the main hall. If Marshal Redpath knew where John had gone, she had every intention of prying that information out of the aging soldier. She liked the officer well enough, but she was in no mood to find out that John had taken on another conspirator in his grand disappearance. Redpath would talk. She would make sure of it.

When Patty entered the hall, she was finally able to discern some of the details regarding this argument between Redpath and Huraan, a strange creature from beyond the Dark Portal known as a Draenei. Huraan, like many of his race, had reached out to the far reaches of the Alliance, making his home here in Southshore. Marshal Redpath, on the other hand, had been a staple of the community dating back to before even the First War between man and orc. When the refugees from Stormwind had arrived in Southshore under the leadership of Sir Anduin Lothar, Marshal Redpath had been the one to greet them. Today, however, these two allies were in a heated debate regarding crystals of all things.

"Marshal, vat am I to do if you vill not give me varriors? Sis is now se third shipment of crystals sat se Forsaken have pillaged! Please see reason in sis!" Huraan implored. Like many of his race, he spoke the Common tongue with a pronounced accent that made w's and certain consonant combinations difficult to perfect.

"I hear you Huraan, I do," Redpath countered, "but I simply cannot spare any more men from the garrison. Those damned undead could attack any minute, and I cannot put the safety of the populace at risk for the sake of a few trinkets."

"Trinket?! I vill have you know sat sees 'trinkets' could mean-"

"Gentlemen, might I make a suggestion?" The question came from the only other person in the room. Sitting at a raised desk at the end of the hall, Magistrate Henry Maleb was a short spoken sort. He kept his words brief, preferring concision over verbosity. This trait had endeared him to the small town population of Southshore, and as such had easily won him his position as Magistrate after his father, Henry Maleb Senior, had been assassinated only a few years before by the vile group of bandits known as the Syndicate. Both Marshal Redpath and Huraan turned their attention to the man when he made his interjection.

"Of course Magistrate. We would appreciate any input you might have," said Redpath, standing at attention to regard the official.

"Please, it vould be most velcome to hear a voice of reason for vonce," said Huraan, shooting Redpath a look of frustrated disdain before turning to face the Magistrate as well.

Magistrate Maleb didn't bother getting up from his seat or even turning his attention away from the paperwork piled before him. He simply continued to work, throwing the two his suggestion as if he were giving input on decor.

"We have a substantial influx of mercenaries coming through Southshore on a weekly basis. I suggest that we offer a reward to any 'adventurer' who can safely return these crystals to you undamaged and in the quantity you require. Whatever amount of coin you can spare for this venture, the town will match. In return, any benefits to be gained by your research will be shared freely and completely with the Alliance with specific attention to Southshore. Does that sound fair to you Huraan?"

The draenei inclined his head and bowed slightly to the Magistrate, smiling for the first time since Patty had entered the room. It was a wide, white and pointy thing. Patty was so amused by it that she found herself smiling as well. She nodded to Huraan as he passed her to leave and found herself hoping that he would soon have his precious crystals. She also found herself worrying that this was one more sign of the undead's continued encroachment into the lands of the living. If they were attacking shipments of potentially useless crystals, what would stop them from attacking a trade caravan to Hillsbrad Fields? She shook her head once, tucking that worry away for the moment. Right now, she needed to find out what happened to John.

"Marshal?" she called softly, stepping further into the room and facing to address the officer. Dressed in the half-plate uniform typical of most modern Alliance soldiers (white steel trimmed with blue with a blue and gold lion's head tabard) he cut an impressive figure despite his advanced age. He turned at Patty's inquiry, smiling when he saw her. When she'd first come to Southshore, he had been the one to ensure that the unworldly ex-apprentice had had a room to stay in at the inn, and eventually had introduced her to the man that she would marry. Marcus Redpath had earned a special place in Patty's heart, and she was always glad to see him. Almost always.

"Patricia!" he returned, wasting no time in meeting his old friend with a warm embrace before holding her out at arm's length by her shoulders. "What can I do for you this evening? Is everything alright?"

She frowned sourly at Marcus, already realizing that he too would claim ignorance as to John's whereabouts. Whatever it was that John was up to, it was rapidly beginning to annoy her as much as it already had her worried.

"I'm here about John. Where is my son Marcus?" Her tone made it clear that there would be no room for argument. Marcus sighed, nodding once with a smile that said that he was just a bit disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to play along with the game. The Marshal never gets to have any fun.

"He came in here this morning asking about that bounty posted for those murlocs down the coast. I asked Lieutenant Orinelle to handle things, but he proved otherwise incompet- er, incapable, so I posted a bounty instead. I gave John the details when he came in and off he went." Marcus dropped his hands from Patty's shoulders, furrowing his wrinkled brow with concern. "You mean to say he still hasn't returned? He left well before noon this morning."

Patty shook her head, the worry showing clearly on her usually tender face. "No, he hasn't, and I'm worried Marcus. You say he went off to hunt murlocs?" She frowned, one hand gripping the front of her blouse and the other reaching up to once more clutch at her four-gemmed crossroads pendant. "I wish I could say that surprises me," she muttered. "Did he go alone? Do you know how many of the creatures there are?"

Marcus shook his head, reaching up to stroke his own chin in thought. "No, I'm afraid I don't have an exact count. As far as I know he went on his own. He had a blade at least. I wasn't about to let anyone take this job on with their bare hands. I set him up with one of my old leather jerkins and a buckler as well. They've seen better days, but each has served me well enough. They'll keep John safe so long as he's careful."

Patty just stared at the Marshal. "This is John we're talking about Marcus."

Marcus cringed, nodding in understanding. "Aye, let me round up some men and we'll get to looking for him." He gave Patty a reassuring smile, patting the long sword sheathed at his side with a wink. "Don't worry Patricia. We'll get your boy-" Marcus was quickly cut off by shouting coming from the front room.

"Hey! You can't just be dragging those through here like that! Who's going to clean up after this!? Not ole Jasper, that's for sure!" It was clear that this voice was the old clerk's, but it was the second that roused Patty's attention.

"Don't worry about it Jasp! I'll swing by tomorrow and have the whole place looking like new!"

"... John?" Patty whispered under her breath. She immediately turned towards the door to confirm that it was her son that she'd heard when he burst through covered from head to toe in equal parts mud, blood and unidentifiable slime. Over his shoulder he carried a bulging rucksack that had soaked through at the bottom, a watery red liquid dripping onto the floor behind him. He froze when he saw his mother standing before him, and slowly raised his free hand in a tentative wave.

"Soooo, I guess the surprise is ruined then?" John inquired, shooting a quick glance to Marshal Redpath who only shrugged and chuckled at the young man. Patty stood there wide eyed and aghast. She'd seen her son in every conceivable state of dress and cleanliness, but this was a new level of filth even by the standards of John C. Highwater. Even so, it was only a moment before she buried her son in a tight hug, almost causing him to drop the dripping sack he was carrying. He let out a gasp of surprise before patting his mother lightly on the back. "Sorry I'm late ma," he said with a blush (assuming you could see such a thing under the muck that covered his face) "You don't realize how fast these things can run until you have to chase 'em down yourself!" As he laughed, she pulled away smiling herself, the slightest hint of moisture rimming her eyes. The embrace had ruined her blouse, but she seemed to pay no mind.

"I'm just glad you're alright. When you just disappeared like that... It scared me half to death John." She brought her sleeve up to her nose, wiping it clean.

John cringed, shifting his weight back and forth on his heels. "Well I didn't think I'd be out all day. I was planning on being back by noon." He turned his attention back to Redpath. "Is the bounty still good? I have about a dozen heads here and I was hoping to take my mom to the inn so she wouldn't have to cook today."

Marcus stared at John, then at the bag, then at John. "Um, John? The bounty's still good but... you know it only called for fins right?"

John stared back at Marcus, Patty glancing back and forth between them with once again wide eyes at learning what was in the bag. "Soooo I've got about a dozen heads here. Should I just... drop them anywhere?" John inquired, adjusting the weight of the very morbid sack he was carrying. Marcus rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pointing at a back door leading outside the back of the building. At his desk, Magistrate Maleb chuckled with amusement.

"Thanks Marshal!" said John, heaving the bag through the door and out the back, dumping it into a barrel of other refuse. He came back in wiping his hands, as if the dirt from carrying the bag could possibly be worse than what covered ninety percent of his body. Patty just stared at her son, finding that every ounce of worry, guilt and annoyance she'd been feeling that day had been replaced by relief that John was alright. Oh, she'd give him his lickings tomorrow. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't at least try to discipline her son? Tonight though, she was relieved.

"John, you smell repulsive," she scolded, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "We'll go to the inn tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting a bath."

John frowned, looking down to address his state of filth for possibly the first time. "I guess I did get a little carried away. Oh! Thanks again for loaning me the armor Marshal!" He began to undo the very stained and muddied jerkin and slip the shield from his arm when Marcus raised a hand to stop him.

"Why don't you go ahead and keep those John? Consider them a uh... a gift. And for you Patricia," he walked over to a safe set against the wall, turned a combination and retrieved a small satchel of coins which he proceeded to hand to Patty. "This would be the bounty for one dozen murloc... heads I guess."

Patty took the satchel, smirking coyly at her son whose expression betrayed how he felt about his mother handling his bounty money for him. "Thank you Marshal," she cooed, hefting the bag as if she cared about its weight. "I'm glad my son could be of service to the community."

Marcus grinned, inclining his head in a slight bow to the woman. "Southshore is truly blessed by the Light to have so many Highwaters around to clean things up," he turned then to perk a brow at John, "even if they sometimes need a bit of cleaning up themselves."

John frowned sullenly at Marcus and began marching out the door, dirty hands shoved into dirty pockets. Patty nodded thanks once more to her friend the Marshal before following her son out the door. She wasn't exactly looking forward to the stench that John would likely carry with him for the next few days no matter how many baths he took, but she was otherwise content. She had her son safe and sound, and just as a cherry on top, this whole ordeal was because he'd wanted to take his mother out for dinner. Patty Highwater felt like the luckiest mother on Azeroth.


End file.
